


Worth The Deal

by stucky1918



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Bucky is a crossroads demon, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War AU, Demon AU, M/M, Nat is gay, Nat is gay for Pepper, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Pepper Potts - Freeform, Possession Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, SHIELD Academy, Slow Burn, Steve and Nat are partners, Steve makes a deal, Stucky - Freeform, WIP, bisexual!pepper, but there is also a lot of story, demon!Bucky, i promise there is sex, lesbian!natasha, pansexual!Tony, post-serum Steve, property, stucky au, this might turn into a civil war AU, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stucky1918/pseuds/stucky1918
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers, a frail young man with severe asthma, has been turned away from the SHIELD Academy six times. He turns to drastic measures. Here is where Bucky Barnes, a snarky-but-lovable crossroads demon, comes in. Once the deal is made and Steve is the solider he always wanted to be, he belongs to Bucky and someone has got to make sure he doesn't get himself killed before his ten years is up. Then again, Bucky might need a little looking out for too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Be Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this is some slow burn shit, okay? Its gonna be cute and funny and nat and steve are going to have a grand old time and then its gonna get real kinky so just be patient folks. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Okay so this went places that I did not expect it to go at all, but its coming along.

      Steve looked up from the café table where his things were spread out. He rolled a pencil between his small fingers and rested his arm on an old sketch of the skyline while his eyes searched the cloudless sky hoping that red and gold figure would soar out from behind a building.

     “Still waiting for a glimpse of Stark, eh?” Suddenly a tall woman pulled out the chair from across Steve and sat down. Her blonde hair fell in waves across her slender shoulders.

     “Sharon, shouldn’t you be working?” Steve’s eyes fell from the sky to the sketches across the table.

     “There are plenty of nurses. I think you are the one who needs me. How long have you been waiting here for him?” Her hand reached out to lay on his, looking at him with gentle concern.

      “Look, I know you think it’s weird. I just can’t imagine what its like…” He trailed off, still avoiding eye contact.

      “What what’s like?”

      “What its like to have people see you. To be strong. To save people.” He brought his head up and his sunken eyes met hers. “No one even sees me, Sharon. They push me in the subway and beat me up in the alleys. I’m nobody. But him? Everyone knows who he is.” His voice was weak and slow as he stuttered out the words.

      “Yeah, but he is an alcoholic ass-hole with more money than he even knows what to do with, Steve. Trust me, you do not want to be Tony Stark.”

      “You’re right, I don’t want to be Tony Stark. I just want to be someone.”

      “Is this about SHEILD, Steve? You have applied to the academy six times. You just can’t. It’s your asthma.”

      “It’s not just my asthma, Sharon.” Steve collected his things into a messy pile and threw his bag over his shoulder. She stood with him, with the intent to walk up North towards their apartment building, but he turned silently and started the other way.

~

      Later that night, Steve sat at the brown desk in the corner of his bedroom. On the other side of the wall he heard Sharon’s voice and then another man’s. They spoke about going to his mothers on Sunday.

      Steve turned on the radio and flipped through the channels until he found what he was looking for. Soft jazz rattled the speakers as he surfed the Internet. He could hear Sharon’s voice in his head, the music you listen to is for 95 year old men. Nobody has listened to this since 1930.

      As usual, the top story of the day was about Stark. He had rescued captives on a stolen SHEILD ship. He scrolled past without reading any further. The headlines went by in a blur, Florida Man Slain In His Home, The Economy Is Failing, The UN Negotiates With Russia. Until finally, something caught his eye.

“Man Sells His Soul For A New Car:  
A Pennsylvania resident claims to have traded his soul for a brand new Ferrari. He reported that after sealing the deal, the car simply appeared in his drive way. The man, now under investigation for theft, may be admitted to a psychiatric clinic to receive treatment for religious delusions.”

He scrolled to the bottom of the page where people had left a sea of comments.

“What a wack job.”  
“All for a new car? Get a life!”  
“Idk, I might sell my soul for a new girlfriend!”

  
     Steve glanced down at the desk for a moment and considered the possibility. What would really be worth it? His eyes darted back up and he opened a new tab. His nimble fingers scampered across the keyboard. “Selling your soul”.

     Within a second, hundreds of “true” accounts of such events popped up. People had been trying to sell their souls for much more and much less than that Pennsylvania man.

     He scrolled through until he found a website for biblical lore. He clicked through tabs and links until he found the page, “Crossroad Demons: How To Sell Your Soul”. Steve glanced around the room. He knew he was alone, but he couldn’t help but check. Sharon would really think he was crazy if she walked in on this.

  
“If one wanted something bad enough to make a deal with the Devil, they would need to summon a Crossroads Demon. In southern lore, it is believed that where two roads meet is a border between two worlds. One can bury some sort of container in the middle of the crossroads filled with graveyard dirt, a black cats bone, and a picture of the one making the deal. It is said that great Blues musician Robert Johnson gained his ability to play by making a deal with a demon and subsequently wrote the song Crossroad Blues.”

  
     Steve spent the next three hours going from one page to the next. Every page he visited, though they all differed slightly, agreed that a box with a picture and dirt needed to be buried at a crossroads. Then the demon would be summoned and you were free to broker a deal.

     Without giving himself enough time to think about how silly it all was, Steve stood, tore a picture of himself and his late mother off the wall, threw a change of clothes into a bag, tossed it over his shoulder and walked out the door.


	2. You Called?

     The chilly fall air blew past him as he rode down the busy New York streets on his father’s old motorcycle. He realized, as he rode, that he didn’t know exactly where he was headed. His mind raced with a place to go until he remembered where all the articled and websites had mentioned- Louisiana.

     The prospect of such a journey made him question his motives. Was he really going to drive all the way to Louisiana on a whim to try and make a deal with the devil? Maybe he was just as crazy as that Pennsylvania man.

     But then he remembered all the headlines: _Stark Saves The Day, New York’s Real Hero: Iron Man, The Man In The Metal Suit Saves More Innocent Lives_. And with that, he kept his head down and continued driving.

     The hours blurred together until Steve was the only one on the back roads he had taken. He hadn’t seen another car for at least two hours. As his eyelids grew heavy, he stopped at a motel off the side of the dirt road he found himself on. The sign that hung haphazardly across the entrance was half lit, but clearly read vacancy.

     He cut the engine in front of the 24/7 office and swung his leg off the bike.

     “Hi. Just one room for the night, please.”

     A teenage boy sat behind the counter reading a magazine. Without looking up or shaking the hair from his eyes he spoke. “Name?”

     “Steven Rogers.” He responded quickly.

     “Alright, _Steven Rogers_ , here are the keys to twelve.” He said mockingly as he tossed a key across the counter.

     “Umm, thanks.” The door to room twelve creaked open and revealed a small drab room that looked as if no one had rented it out in years. The pillows, a slight yellowish color, laid across the top of the bed, which squeaked as he sat down to take his things out of the brown bag. He pulled out a purple sweater and set it down on the stained comforter along with a pair of dark jeans. The rest of the contents he put on a chair in the corner of the room. He laid down on the bed with his shoes and jacket still on and stared at the molding ceiling tiles.

~

     Steve woke up fully clothed and peeled open his eyes. He took a second to remember where he was. His frail hands brushed back his blonde hair and rubbed his eyes. He sat up and breathed out deeply before peeling off his jacket, then his white t-shirt, and finally his black pants. Still tired, he struggled to pull on the jeans lying in a heap on the floor.

     The jeans hung off his wiry frame as he walked to the bathroom. He splashed cold rusty water over his face and stared at himself. He looked at the concave curvature of his chest and his ribs, which jutted out from beneath his skin. He could see his lungs heave to bring air into them and push it out. He turned his head down in disgust and walked back to cover himself.

     With a ten dollar tip on the nightstand, he closed the doors to room twelve and got back on his motorcycle. He pulled back onto the dirt road and looked out onto the vast landscape in front of him. He drove with purpose.

~

     By the time he reached the rickety roadside sign that told him he had made it to Louisiana, it was starting to get dark again. The sun fell behind the trees that lined the gravel roads as he passed roadhouses and motels. Finally, he flicked the kickstand down, got off the bike, and stood in front of a true Louisiana crossroad.

     He pulled the picture of him and his mother out from his bag and gripped it tightly. They took it just a year before she died. He stood, in a sweater just like the one he was wearing now, with his arm draped around his mother who smiled from ear to ear.

     His feet left prints in the dust as he walked to the center of the road and got down on his knees. It was cold enough to see his breath in the darkness as his hands scooped away dirt. He gently placed the picture and a hand full of dirt into a tin can and set it in the small crater. The dirt fell back over the offering quickly and Steve stood, brushing dirt from his knees.

     He looked around, waiting for some grand mystical thing to happen, but the still air remained unstirred. He looked back down at the ground, trying to find what he had failed to do. After a few moments, his brain was flooded with thoughts. _How dumb are you, Steve? You actually believed those nut jobs? You drove all the way to the middle of nowhere for nothing!_

     Suddenly, the silence was pierced by a low voice.

     “You called?”

   


	3. Property Rights

           "You called?"

            Steve spun around to face a tall man standing with arms folded. His dark hair was parted to the side and slicked back and he wore a black suit with a black shirt and tie.

            “Who are you?” Steve asked with fear apparent in his voice.

            “Who do you think I am?” The larger man asked. He blinked his eyes slowly and when they opened again they were a solid, deep red.

            Steve stood silently and uncomfortably close to the demon.

            “So, what is it you want so bad? I heard you came a long way for this. Better be good.” His lips were pursed and his eyebrow, raised slightly.

            “I, uh, I want to be….somebody.” Steve stuttered.

            “Oh, you have got to be kidding me?” The demon responded. “You want to be somebody?? What a fucking joke, kid.” He turned, as if to walk away.

            “No, wait!” Steve lurched forward and grabbed the demons hand. He stood for a second, his small hand wrapped around the other mans wrist. “Make me strong. Make me a soldier.”

            “Alright, well that is something I can work with.” He replied, turning back. “I can make you the best soldier the world has ever seen. I can make you a super solider. But it will cost you.”

            “Anything.” Steve begged with desperation in his voice.

            “You get ten years. You get to be the worlds greatest killing machine or whatever for a whole ten years and then the hellhounds and I come for you and your soul spends eternity in the Pit.” The demon explained simply.

            “The Pit?” Steve questioned.

            “Hell. You spend eternity in Hell.”

            Steve took a step back and brought his eyebrows together in confusion. But after a moment, his head turned up and he replied with uncharacteristic fervor, “Okay.”

~ 

            “If you are sure, kid.” He took a step towards Steve and leaned in towards him.

            “What…what are you doing?” Steve questioned.

            “Jesus. You know nothing about crossroads demons, do you? The only way to seal the deal is to kiss. You kiss me once, you get whatever it is you want, and I get your soul. It isn’t that hard to grasp.”

            “Oh.” Steve let out quietly.

            “You got a problem, kid?” He tested.

            “Hey, I’m not a kid. And no,” his speech slowed, “I don’t have a problem.”

            Steve had kissed a girl once. In third grade, Stacy Holmes, kissed him on the playground. But since then, girls weren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on. So, he kept to himself, there were more important things in life. Of course, Sharon pushed girls on him left and right and at one point she insinuated at herself, but Steve never took the bait.

            The demon stepped forward again with a strong gait. “Well?”

            Without a second to think, Steve pulled himself forward, leaned up as far as he could, grabbed the other mans jawline and pushed their lips together. He stayed, suspended with his dry lips against the demons plump ones, for just a moment before slowly pulling away. His eyes were filled with uncertainty as he waited for a response.

            “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” The demon said as he pulled a black notebook out of his back pocket. “Name?”

            “Steve, well, Steven. Steven Grant Rogers.” The other man scribbled the name down. “What about you?”

            Without looking up, he replied, “What about me?”

            “Your name. I mean, do you have a name?” Steve continued looking at him.

            Without glancing up he stoically answered. “Bucky.”

            Steve looked confused. He had expected something more…biblical. Something, demonic. Sensing his confusion, Bucky looked up.

            “I was human once, too, and my name was James Buchanan Barnes, but I went by Bucky.” This explanation was softer than his other words. He meant them and Steve wondered if they meant something to him.

            “So, uhh…” Steve began, “when do I, ya know, change?”

            “God, this generation and their instant gratification. Tonight. When you wake up in the morning, I promise you will be all jacked up just the way you want to be so you can run off and save the world. But just because you are strong doesn’t make you Iron Man, kid. You are still human, you have to be careful. Of what you do and what you see. Stark doesn’t drink for no reason.” This advice was stern, but somehow more than he had to give - it was a courtesy.

            “What do you care, you got what you came for, didn’t you?” Steve asked defensively.

            “No. I own you now, but I don’t get my prize for another ten years and quality matters. If you destroy yourself before then, then my boss gets mad at me, so keep it together. Don’t try to save too many cats from burning buildings.” He chuckled despite his apparent seriousness.

            “Yeah, well, I think I can take care of myself.” Steve replied aggressively. He turned away, grabbed his bag from the dirt and walked to his motorcycle without looking back. But before peeling away, he heard that strong voice call after him, “I’ll see ya around, kid. You’re my responsibility now.”

            He left the crossroads behind and found a road back into the closest town to find a motel, but all the way there he heard that voice, that last comment, replay in his head over and over. His responsibility? His property?


	4. A Brand New Man

              By the time he checked into yet another less than comfortable motel room, his legs ached from riding all day and his eyes barley stayed open long enough to peel back the blankets and lay down.

~

             When Steve woke in the motel room, the stale light cast shadows through the curtains and clouds of dust filled the air. As objects in the room came into focus, he noticed a difference in the vitality of what was around him. The bed spread was a newer, brighter shade of green heaped on the floor and the carpet, a deeper red. Then he noticed the air itself, as dirty as it was, he felt it fill his lungs completely and get painlessly pushed back out into the light. His chest rose more quickly and smoothly with each satisfying breath.

            Adjusting to the room around him, he brought his once weak arms up to ruffle his hair and rub his eyes, but before he reached all the way up, he noticed the bulging curvature of his arms. Where they once were bony and shaking, they were now defined and steady. He no longer saw his skeleton below his skin, but rather pulsing muscles. He followed them up his arm to his shoulders, onto his chest, and to his stomach which now rippled rather than sank. He rolled to the edge of the bed and stood quickly. Everything was…smaller. Or maybe it was he who was larger.

            After further examination in the dirty bathroom mirror, it was clear to him that he was now at least two feet taller and 150 pounds heavier. His head sat on a correctly proportioned neck, connected to a strong build. Steve stared at himself in the mirror silently and without motion trying to drink in his new body. He knew he would be better, bigger, stronger, but this was more than he had expected. This was a feeling he would need to get used to. Steve leaned down to wash his face, but when his hand met the water knob, he twisted it clear off the sink unit. He stood, knob in hand wondering just what he was capable of.

~ 

            Eager to rediscover his body, he exited the motel room, leaving his belongings behind and began to run. He ran past his bike and past the motel sign, down the road, and around the corner. When he finally stopped running, not because he was too tired or in pain, but because he was bored, he found himself at a gas station.

            “Where am I?” He asked the older woman behind the counter.

            “Well, you are in Parksville, Lousisiana, son.” She wiped her dirty hands on the yellow apron wrapped around her waist.

            “About how far from the Village Motel?” He asked without explaination.

            “I would say about 19 miles.” She replied without question or hesitance.

            Steve turned without a good bye and began back down the gravel road towards the motel.

            When he arrived back, the day was just beginning. But as he stared out onto the road from his motel room door with bag in hand, he wondered what it was he was supposed to do now. Could he really just go back?

            As the open road greeted him, he decided that he would apply to the academy one more time. Only this time, with a new name. This time they wouldn’t escort him out of the facility, this time he wouldn’t fail every training test, this time they would let him be a solider.

~

            He slid his key into the lock and opened his apartment door. Sharon wasn’t home, or if she was, she wasn’t interested in welcoming him home. But it was better that way, what would he have said? Steve knew full well that he would have to tell her the whole story eventually, but there were other things on his mind now.

            His apartment seemed foreign. He had only been gone for two days, but nothing felt the same. Then, as he watched television mindlessly from the couch, he realized that it was him who was not the same. He had asked not to be the same.

~ 

As the days passed, Steve successfully avoided Sharon in the hallways and evaded answering her 37 messages. This morning, as he finished his daily twenty-mile run, he walked over to the answering machine and pressed the blinking green button.

            _Steve? Steve, are you alright? I know you are in there. You haven’t left your apartment in days! I know you were really upset about the SHEILD academy but you can’t just stop living your life because of it. Please, Steve, I miss you._

            This reminded him, recruitment for the SHEILD Academy of Operations was tomorrow. Steve had attended every recruitment day for the past three years. Every time he entered that huge glass building, he stood among America’s best and brightest. Now was his chance to be one of them.

He stood facing his desk looking up at the pale yellow wall where his photos hung. He focused on the one of him and his father taken years before. They stood laughing in front of a large white building. His father, tall and strong with broad shoulders, wore his lab jacket.

            “I’m gonna do it, dad. I promise.”


	5. First Day At The Gym

       “Name?” A man in an all black suit asked Steve as he reached the front desk of the recruitment building.

       “Timothy Moore, Sir.” Steve replied quickly.

       “Alright, Timothy, you can enter the testing center.” He stamped Steve’s paperwork and ushered him out two large black doors at the back of the room.

       After four hours of physical testing, two written exams and psychoanalysis, Steve found himself in a large room with twenty other men who resembled him loosely. The man standing to his left was just an inch or two shorter than him and slightly less muscular. His black hair was cut close to his head and his large hands sat clasped together behind his back. The man to his right was smaller than the other men, but visibly trained well.

        Though he had never been one, Steve knew how to be a solider. Every response ended with “sir” and stood at attention ready to take orders. He had been training for twenty-one years and now he was finally where he wanted to be.

        “Moore.” The man at the front of the room called out.

         Steve stood motionless for a moment before he recognized that name as the one he had given. He stepped forward out of the line.

         “Yes, Sir.”

         “You are going to need to follow me.” The rest of the men remained in the room as Steve walked out accompanied by who he hoped to be his new Supervising Officer.

          They arrived at two large oak doors, which were immediately swung open by a shapely woman wearing a black skirt and a purple dress shirt with the top three buttons pulled apart. Her bright red hair swung freely around her slender face as she smiled and motioned Steve into the room.

          “Ma’am, can I ask what’s going?”

          “The Director wants to see you.” She replied without looking back at him.

          “Director Coulson? Wants to see me?” Steve tripped over his words and took an extra step to catch up to the woman.

~

          “So, Timothy Moore?” Steve looked into the eccentrically embellished office. The walls were covered in what seemed to be various World War II artifacts. Most of it was stamped with the original SHEILD logo and had _Strategic Scientific Reserve_ printed onto the surface. The desk chair at the front of the room swung around and Director Coulson faced Steve.

            “Yes, Sir.”

            “You are an exceptional recruit, son. How long have you been training for this?” His questions seemed genuine.

            “My whole life, Sir.” He said with a slight nod of the head.

            “Well, it is my professional opinion that four years of Operations Academy training is a waste of both of our time in your case.” He paused as if he expected a response from his newest cadet.

            “Can I ask what that means?” Steve questioned.

            “I am going to have you train with an S.O. in the field immediately.” He breathed in, “If that is what you want.”

            Steve scrambled to answer, “Absolutely, Sir.”

            “Great. Then meet your new supervising officer, Natasha Romanoff, AKA Black Widow.”

            Steve turned to the woman he now recognized. She looked back at him with a smirk and then turned towards the doors, leaving Coulson looking down at papers across his desk.

            “Are you coming?” She asked Steve who stood statically in the middle of the office.

            “Uh, yes ma’am.” He followed her out.

            They continued in silence down the hallway until they reached the lobby of the building. The cadets were gone, presumably being shown their new housing at the Academy.

             “Look,” she turned sharply and looked at him, “I know who you are and I know what you did to get here. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Coulson. But I think you will find you owe me a favor someday.”

             After a slight pause, Steve found the words to respond, “Yes, ma’am.”

             “It’s Natasha.” She turned back and began walking again.

             Steve was left just a few steps behind. His mind raced as he starting walking again. _The Black Widow is my new SHEILD supervising officer? How the hell did she figure out what I did? Does SHIELD even know about demons? Of course they do._

            “We start tomorrow. I expect you here, wearing these,” she swiped a stack of all black clothing off of a counter as she strode past and shoved them into Steve’s arms, “at six am sharp in the training complex.” She turned her head back to look for an answer.

            “Uh, yes, ma’am- I mean, Natasha.” He waited a moment. “When is my first day in the field?”

            She stopped walking immediately and turned to him with seriousness in her dark eyes, “Your time in the field starts right now. From now on, every moment of your life is dedicated to SHEILD. We need you, you are there. And if you aren’t up for that, you better walk away now.”

            “Six am sharp.” He replied without hesitance.


	6. The Return of A Not-So-Old Friend

            Steve’s legs pumped back and forth as he sprinted down the track. He circled the length of the course again. And again. And again. Though he had been running for two hours, he showed no signs of fatigue. His feet seemed to pick up faster every time.

            “Is this what I am going to be doing all day?” He asked, with only a slight shortness of breath, as he stopped in front of Natasha.

            “No. We have an assignment. Suit up.” She left him with that.

            “An assignment?” He called after her.

            “Briefing in twenty.” She yelled back hastily.

            Steve shook his head and chuckled slightly. This wasn’t exactly what he had imagined all those years of dreaming about SHIELD.

            “An assignment, huh?” A familiar voice spoke from behind him.

            The moment he put a face to the voice, he stopped and without looking back very sternly spoke. “What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?”

            “Oh, you even remembered my name. I’m flattered.” By now, he had moved from behind Steve and stood shoulder to shoulder with his property.

            “I came here on very serious demon business, you see.” His words were stretched as they lurched from his throat.

            “I can’t imagine what that would be.” Steve let his frustration mix into his words. He continued walking forward towards the field house completely aware that Bucky was still following him.

            “I am here to ensure the safety of…the goods.” His search for words made him sound unsure.

           Steve reached for the door to the small building where he had changed. The doors glided open with ease.

            “Yeah, I don’t know what that means.” He replied as he took a towel from the shelf to his left and wiped his face. Steve was, even if he had never formally been, a solider deep down and as a result, he had a problem with ambiguity.

            Steve went to the small gray locker that had his name above it and pulled out his clothes. After turning towards the benches and Bucky, he stood for a moment both silent and still.

            Bucky’s smug expression remained.

            “Uh, a little privacy?” Steve inquired.

            “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. So, anyway, my reason for being here…”

            Steve reluctantly began to pull off his sweaty clothes and change into the new ones while Bucky spoke, slightly embarrassed and very annoyed.

            “This mission of yours. Do you know what it is?”

            “No, Natasha has me at a briefing after this.” Steve replied, now interested.

            “Well, I’m just here with a reminder. You are property now. My property. And I can’t have any scratches on my brand new Maserati. Understand?”

            “So, I’m a car? A god damn car? What’s sick is that I’m pretty sure you are actually worried about me and the only way you know how to express that in your demon head is to be an ass. I don’t need your help, Bucky. I can handle myself.” This was an uncharacteristic tone for Steve and it felt uncomfortable pouring out of his mouth.

            “Yeah, only because of me, in case you haven’t forgotten the whole demon deal thing.” And with one more lingering stare at Steve, now just half dressed, he was gone.


	7. They Say The First Day Is The Worst

            “You got him, Nat?” Steve screamed across the room while he slid over a counter and propelled his foot into another mans chest.

            “Yeah! Remember kid, you might be strong, but I’m trained.” Her red hair wiped through the air as she broke a man’s cheekbone against her fist.

            This was one of the last remaining Hydra bases SHEILD knew of, but that didn’t mean anything. Director Coulson was secretive to say the least and Steve was hardly a level 9 agent. He always had the sense that Natasha knew far more than he did and he was right. Her level 6 clearance allowed her six times the knowledge of Steve and his level 1 clearance. But they assured him he would move up fast, he was leaps and bounds above the other recruits. He was the only one they would ever imagine letting in the field after such a short training season.

            He discovered quickly that his deal resulted in more than muscles and fine motor skills. He learned faster, he understood more, he became the perfect student and then the perfect soldier. Then again, he didn’t know how much of that should be attributed to Natasha rather than Bucky.

            Natasha slithered through the room past men that she shoved Steve’s way, knowing he could handle it, and got to the computer. Her mission differed slightly, as it often did, from that of her partner. She was to hack and decode all the Hydra had saved at the base. This ensured, as Coulson explained, that the information would be destroyed or utilized properly by SHEILD. Her fingers frantically tapped keys in a language Steve would never understand, no matter how smart Bucky made him. The screens covering the wall flashed in black and green and strings of numbers flew across black windows.

            “You mind hurrying up?” Steve yelled as he jumped from the ground, back up to face another man.

            “Give me a second! Use your unbelievable charm!” She smirked.

            “Are you asking me to seduce Hydra?” Steve let himself chuckle as another man fell unconscious before him.

            As Steve turned to ask Natasha her status, he felt a sharp burning sensation plummet in his side. The pain spread through his muscles, radiating into every limb and up through his neck to his head, which pulsed. His knees hit the concrete first and then his right hand, which braced his fall. His left hand reached to his side and sank into a puddle of blood through the hole in his vest. His mind searched for an answer and found nothing.

            “Nat…” His mouth moved to make the words, but hardly any sounds came out. But he didn’t need to yell for her, she already knew. And as she spun towards the action, she froze as her eyes fell on the man standing behind Steve. He was large to say the least. The man towered over Steve. Surely he had been one of Hydra’s experiments. Perhaps he was a “gifted individual”, as SHEILD called them, or perhaps he was one of Hydra’s many attempts to create a “Super-Solider”.

            By the time Natasha heaved a breath in, the man had picked Steve up by his vest and held his limp body above the ground. Steve had not lost consciousness, though any normal human being would have moments ago. He merely hung, with his now dyed red hand clutching his side. His breathe caught in his lungs the way that it had from asthma just months ago. He began to feel pain that he thought was over, that he thought he would never feel again.

            “He is almost as strong as me.” The man bellowed from behind Steve.

            He threw his head back in shaking laugher.

            “Almost!” he continued.

            In a sudden, jarring, movement, Steve was whipped around. His combatants hand gripped his neck and he struggled to push air through. Blood rushed to his head as he struggled against the grip.

            Natasha was frozen behind a set of keyboards, helplessly watching. She tried to move forward, to take action, but she felt stuck to the floor. She was truly afraid. This was the first mission, the new kid, her student.

 


	8. Dr. Barnes Reporting For Duty

             Natasha tried to force words, but the arm of their assailant knocked the wind out of her chest with a swinging blow before she could. She responded with everything she had but her fist fell against concrete skin. The world around her blurred as she lost consciousness.

            With Natasha compromised in a heap against a stack of generators, Steve realized just how useless he was without all the training he lacked. You could be the strongest man on the planet, but if you don’t have skill and cunning, the kind Natasha had, you were useless. The man approached Steve silently with his arms straight down at his sides. His heavy breathing was the only sound hanging in the air between them. Steve clamored for things to grasp, anything to hit him with. His hands raced against cold tile and his eyes darted across the room. As time stood frozen, he pondered the thought of dying on his first mission. He thought about all that he had done to get here. He would be the man willing to sell his soul for strength, just to die the first time he used it.

Just as the adversary approached Steve, he stopped. A look of pain replaced the stern one that had preceded it. And a small groan left his lips. Steve watched in silent fear as the man fell to his knees and then toppled over. This left, in plain sight, the figure of a man in a black suit holding a beating heart in his hand.

 

            ~

 

            “What did I tell you about getting killed?” Bucky’s deep voice rang through the room.

            Somehow after only one other surprise visit, this was no longer a shock.

            With heavy breaths between words, Steve managed, “I…didn’t…get killed.”

            “You are correct. You were stabbed. But without my sift intervention just moments ago, I believe that stabbing would have quickly turned into a killing.” These words came out as a quip, a teasing mockery.

            “Look, unless you can magically heal this wound, I would really appreciate it if you would go before Natasha wakes up and wonders who the hell you are or what in God’s name happened to the five hundred pound brick wall that nearly just killed us.”

            “It’s funny you should say that.” A sly grin grew across the demons face, accentuating hardened cheekbones.

            Steve’s familiar quizzical look returned as Bucky pulled his straight, black plant legs up and squatted down until he was eye level with the other man. One of Bucky’s icy hands reached up to cradle Steve’s chin while the other gripped at the stab wound on his side.

            “This might hurt a little.”

            With no further warning, a bright white light grew from between Bucky’s fingers and illuminated the wound. A searing pain, worse than the stabbing itself, overrode Steve’s senses as he clenched his teeth. As the burning sensation continued, he instinctively groped at Bucky’s forearm, the one cradling his head. His fingernails dug into Bucky’s flesh and he let out a deep moan.

            When the pain subsided, Steve pried his eyes open slowly to meet Bucky’s deep red ones. As his eyes faded back to brown and he let go of his grip on Steve’s side, Steve was suddenly aware of his remaining grip on the other mans forearm. He jerked back suddenly, bringing his arms to his side.

            “How about that? Just call me Dr. Barnes.”

            Steve poked one feeble finger through the red whole in his vest and found no wound. The skin was warm to the touch and slightly red, but it was quite the improvement from the stab wound.

            He pondered just how to thank his unlikely guardian, but before a cohesive sentence came together in his mind, Bucky spoke, standing tall before him.

            “Too-da-loo, pretty boy.”

            With no sound and a small gust of air, Bucky was gone.

            “Pretty boy?”


	9. Excuses

            “What?” Natasha’s weak voice echoed from the corner of the room. What had she heard? What had she seen?

            “Nothing.” Steve shook his head, standing and approaching Natasha.

            Natasha gripped at the servers next to her and pulled herself up. No groan of pain or complaint left her lips. Instead, she walked over to Steve and offered him a hand.

            “We have to get you to a hospital.” She said as she slid a cellphone from one of the many pockets in her suit.

            “No, really, I am fine. What about you.” Steve reached up and swiped some hair away from Nat’s eyes to reveal a small cut and a smear of blood.

            Natasha grabbed his hand and removed it from her forehead swiftly. “Jesus, I’m fine. I’m not the one that just got stabbed.”

            She lifted his right arm to reveal the red stain in the black vest. Steve tried to stop her, but before he found a way to explain, she had ripped open the Velcro and revealed Steve’s perfectly healed side.

            “What the hell?”

            “That’s…that’s his blood. I’m fine. He went at me, but I got the knife from him before he made contact. I caught him in the chest.” Steve explained hastily. And, he thought, surprisingly convincingly.

            “Okay, and your knife did that?” Nat looked down at the man heaped on the floor with his chest cavity ripped open.

            “Uhh…yeah.”

            Natasha didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t. What did he think? That she was a fucking idiot? But she didn’t have time for this. They had to get out of there before someone came on a recon mission for the body splayed out in front of them.

           

~

 

            Steve and Nat clamored into the black van Coulson had sent with them. It was hardly an elaborate extraction plan, but it worked. Steve had, on the way there, offered to drive, but Nat had simply climbed into the driver’s side and cracked a joke about whether or not he was old enough to drive. Appartenly, despite the transformation, his youthfulness had stayed with him.    

            As they drove back, Steve found himself staring out the window at the passing landscape and wondering just what had happened back there. He mindlessly wiped his sweaty palms across his tight black pants and pondered that bright white light that had healed him. It definitely didn’t seem demonic. If anything, it was sort of…angelic.

            “So, are you going to tell me about him?”

            Steve registered Natasha’s voice and swung his head around to look at her.

            “A-a-about who?” He stammered.

            “The demon you’re thinking about?”

            There was a stagnant pause.

            She continued. “The one that ripped that maniacs heart out. The one that healed your wound.” The whole time she spoke, she kept her eyes on the road and her expression never changed. There was no hint of surprise or question in her voice. The confidence that was so much so a part of her personality, rang through her words.

            “How do you…I mean…” Steve couldn’t find the right words.

            “Oh come on, Rogers. I’m not an idiot. You show up at the SHEILD Academy fresh out of a demon deal and now here you are, healed of all your wounds, miraculously saved, and daydreaming out a window. I mean I know you’re special and all, but you aren’t Thor-special, so spill.”

            Steve took a moment. Of course he knew he would have to talk about it at some point. Someone was going to find out. Someone already had. And yet, he hadn’t quite found the right way to respond.

            After a moment of staring at Natasha, he looked forward out onto the road.

            “He…uh…he is something.”

            “And he obviously thinks you’re pretty special. I mean I hardly think those kinds of life saving actions are required for a man such as himself.” Natasha added.

            “Well, it’s just that I’m his property.” Steve said it so casually that it even threw him off.

            “I’m sorry? What?” Finally, Natasha turned to look at him.

            “No, that came out weird. I mean, he owns me. Like, I sold my soul to him and now he has to make sure that when he comes to collect, that I’m not…damaged.” He waited for Natasha to say something.

            “Kinky.”


	10. Crazy For A Sharp Dressed Man

     Steve laid in his bed with his hands resting gently behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the faint echo of music being played in the apartment above his and he thought of the multiple complaints he had made over the years. It never seemed to get any quieter. Usually he would drown out the thumping with his own music. He was particularly found of Jazz.

     His mind drifted to the events of that day. He saw Bucky standing in front of him holding a heart in his hands. He heard his strong voice. _Too-da-loo, pretty boy._ And he wondered if he always wore the same suit.

 _Do demons have to change? Does he have a closet somewhere in hell filled with Gucci and Louis Vuitton?_ _Maybe he has multiple suits that are all exactly the same. He must get them tailored. They fit so well._

     He thought about the way the pants draped over his thighs and the way the buttons of his shirt pulled away from each other slightly at his chest. He imagined what the fabric would feel like against his skin and how his hands would loosen his tie or unbuckle his belt.

     Steve took one hand from behind his head and slid it down his bare chest towards the top of his jeans. His fingers maneuvered beneath the rough denim and he inhaled sharply as he gripped at his cock. His slid his rough hands up and down, massaging his dick as he got harder.

     He imagined Bucky’s voice telling him how bad he was being.

_Oh, you naughty boy. Did I tell you you could do that? I own you. You have to ask for permission, young man._

     Steve let out a breathy, “ _please”._

     His strokes became faster and sharper as he imagined Bucky’s soft flips curling around his nipples. He thought of how he would pull Bucky’s mouth up from his chest to his mouth and let their lips collide. He imagined the other mans mouth would taste like cinnamon and that his tongue would lick heat into his mouth. He imagined what it would feel like to have Bucky inside of him and feel his breath on his neck as he rocked in and out of him.

     Steve’s other hand now gripped at the bed sheets as he felt tension build in the pit of his stomach. He moaned loudly and uncontrollably as he tried to contain himself. He pushed his head down into the pillow and his skin peeled away from the sheets as he arched his back in ecstasy. Just as he thought about the sensation of Bucky cumming inside him, he lost all control and felt his own orgasm explode inside his jeans.

     “Fuck!” He yelled as his body unwound and he released his grip on his now throbbing cock.

     He laid still for a moment, with his hand still in his jeans, shocked by his own actions. He had never had any _interest_ in anyone, let alone a crossroads demon. A male crossroads demon. He considered what Natasha had said, _“He obviously thinks you’re pretty special.”_ Did he? How special did he think he was? Was he more than property? Or was it him being property that made it all so…. intriguing?

 


	11. Chapter 11

     Steve woke up the next morning and peeled yesterdays jeans and boxers off. He had slept in them after last nights…activities. He stared at the heap on the floor and made a mental note to throw the boxers in with his laundry tonight.

     He found himself staring into his reflection at the bathroom mirror the same way he did that first morning he woke up with his new body. Except this time, he was examining it for an outside eye. Instead of inspecting what he looked like to himself, he now wondered what he looked like to Bucky. He studied his facial features wondering which one, if any, caught Bucky’s eye. He took a particular liking to his pale blue eyes. They had, of course, always been this shade. But a certain vigor was brought to them by his newfound vitality. He considered how his light, soft eyes, contrasted to Bucky’s harsh, deep brown ones.

     Steve shook his head slightly as if to wake himself from a dream. How had he suddenly become like a young girl crushing on an older boy? Where had this lust come from? And why was it triggered by such an all-together-unexpected person?

     He splashed cold water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

~ 

 

     “You’re late, Rogers.” Coulson sat, once again, behind the large desk at the back of his office. Natasha sat comfortably in front of him in a worn leather chair.

     “You know my name, Sir?” Steve inquired as he approached.

     “You don’t honestly believe that the director of SHIELD wouldn’t know that you aren’t ‘Timothy Moore’? You’re smarter than that. And you sure as hell know I’m smarter than that,” Coulson replied with ease.

     “I apologize for the deception, Sir. They would have turned me away had I given them the name Rogers. Again.” Steve felt a familiar sense of shame. He had spent is whole life feeling bad for taking up space.

     “How many times was it? Five?”

     “I was accepted the seventh time, Sir.”

     “Jesus!” Coulson let out a slight chuckle.

     With this laugh, Steve relaxed slightly and let his arms fall from behind his back to his sides.

     “I’m just happy to be here now, Sir.” Steve waited a moment for Coulson to begin talking again. He must have been called here for a reason.

     “So, you understand that we, as a world safety organization, have a responsibility to keep an eye on this whole thing, correct?” Coulson’s serious tone had returned swiftly.

     “This whole thing, Sir? I’m not sure I understand.”

     “We have always known there were Gods, Rogers. Thor happens to be a friend of mine. But we were, until recently, unaware of the more biblical happenings. Angels. Demons.”

     Steve’s eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to him that if demons were real, that must mean angels are as well. _Jesus,_ he thought, _what does that mean about Lucifer?_

     “We accepted you to the academy and put you in the field in part because of your exceptional abilities, and in part because of your connection to this…situation.”

     Steve nodded silently.

     Coulson continued. “While you complete other SHIELD missions, you will have an ongoing secondary mission: to provide intel on the operations of demons in this world. You are to inform on the demon you have made your deal with and, if necessary, lead a strike force to stop demon involvement on Earth.”

 _Stop demon involvement on Earth? What does that mean? Kill them? Kill Bucky?_ His thoughts raced.

     A realization struck him. This was his job. This is what he trained for. This is what he dreamed about for twenty-one years. And if this is what he had to do, he would do it.

     "Yes, Sir."


	12. One Of Us

     The next couple of days, Natasha probed at Steve. She was subtle (she is a spy after all), but even just in the short time Steve had known her, he had grown accustomed to her tone when she wanted information. Coulson’s orders had, no doubt, been for her to get as much information from Steve as possible even before he came forth with the information himself.

     Steve had, much to his own dismay, no information for her. Bucky hadn’t suddenly or mysterious appeared since the whole ripping-out-that-guys-heart-incident.

     “So how exactly does one become a demon?” Natasha asked sternly, turning her head from the road before them, to Steve’s downturned head.

     “How the hell should I know?” Steve was surprisingly hostile. Nat was a friend and he didn’t mean to be rude, but he had, as of late, found himself on edge.

     “Okay, cool it, Rogers.” She returned her gaze to the road.

     After a few moments of muffled talk radio, Steve spoke up slowly.

     “He..uh, he was human once.”

     This seemed to spark Natasha’s interest.

     “So, maybe you die and then you go to hell and become a demon? I don’t know. But he was human once. His name was James Buchanan Barnes.”

     That name would never leave him.

 

 ~

 

     Natasha spoke, but this time not to Steve. She began issuing commands to the vehicles operating system. It was a version of JARVIS Stark had created for SHIELD to run on all their devices, including vehicles.

     “Search SHIELD records.”

     “And what would you like me to search, m’am?” A familiar British voice responded.

     “Find any files including the name _James Buchanan Barnes._ ”

     “One moment.”

     Steve held his breath, pondering all the possibilities. After all, he was a demon, he could have been a serial killer or a terrorist or a bank robber.

     “I have gathered all relevant information on one _James Buchanan Barnes._ ” JARVIS spoke.

     “Have all the files printed at the academy and give us the cliff-notes, Jarv.”

     “James Buchanan Barnes was born in Shelbyville, Indiana to Winifred and George Barnes on March 10th, 1917. Soon after his birth, the family relocated to Brooklyn, New York where Bucky was the oldest of four children and the most athletically gifted. He enlisted in the US Army in 1941 and was known as Sargent Barnes, a member of the 107th division. He was involved in missions related to the Strategic Scientific Reserve. In 1942, Sgt. Barnes went up against multiple HYDRA agents in a train car and fell to his death. His body was never found. He is currently honored for his bravery on the SHIELD Wall of Valor.”

     After a long silence following JARVIS’s monologue, Natasha spoke weakly, “He was one of us.”


	13. Tell me, Stevie

     “So, when were you planning on telling me?” Steve stood alone in the middle of his minimalistic apartment, speaking into dark vacancy. “I don’t know how all this demon crap works, but I know you can hear me, Bucky!”

     Steve’s eyes scanned the apartment. Small beams of light cast lines across the couch through the blinds. He could hear his own heartbeat in the silence. Each moment hung in the air, thick with suspense. He raised his hands slightly to the sides as if to say _come and get me._

     “I’m not always watching you, you know.” The words came sharply from behind Steve, prompting him to pivot quickly and face the speaker.

     Bucky’s voice held a hesitation that it hadn’t ever before. Steve repeated his question, this time slightly softer. Bucky knew precisely what he was talking about and the question jarred him, but he regained his arrogant composure. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

     Steve removed his gaze from Bucky’s deep brown eyes and relocated it to his lips, one side slightly upturned with expected cheekiness.

     “I’m not in the mood for games, Bucky. I know you were a solider. I know you were a part of the SSR. You were SHEILD before SHEILD existed. And you knew why I wanted to be this way,”   Steve’s hands gestured down his body, “you knew I wanted to join SHEILD. So, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve’s tone was not harsh. In fact, it contained a tinge of compassion, perhaps pity.

     “That was a long time ago, kid. I hardly remember who I was before I was this,” Bucky repeated Steve’s gesture.

     “1942. That wasn’t that long ago.” Steve remained across the room from his demon counterpart watching his eyes fall to the ground.

     “Maybe for you,” Bucky responded. “In Hell, 74 years is about three centuries,” his eyes rose to meet Steve’s, “Give or take a couple minutes.”

     Steve’s eyebrows knitted together slightly and he pulled his head back slightly, breaking eye contact. “Oh my God.”

     There was a slight chuckle that brought Steve’s attention back.

     “More like _oh my Lucifer.”_ A sad smile adorned Bucky’s face. “I’m not sure what you think, but being a demon is no walk in the park. Before you’re this, you’re just another soul. You can’t die, but you sure as hell can bleed.”

     There was a tense pause. _Every villain has a sad backstory, right?_ Steve thought.

     It was obvious Bucky wasn't in the mood for talking about whatever dark shit he had been through. And Steve was hardly in the position to press him about it. So, uncomfortable and unable to fine the right words, he perked up slightly.“So, you’re not always watching, huh?”

     Bucky’s disposition changed immediately and he took a few steps forward, quickly closing the gap between the two of them. “I have other things to do. Important demon business to attend to. You might be my property, Rogers, but you aren’t the center of the universe. So, no, I’m not _always_ watching. ”

     Steve’s face softened to what could nearly be called a smile.

     “However, I _am_ always listening.” He drew that last word out as he raised one eyebrow and waited for a reaction. Steve remained silent, trying to hide his quizzical expression.

     “And I heard something very interesting the other night….” At the end of his sentence, he left his pouty lips slightly separated.

     At the same moment Bucky took another step forward, Steve found himself locked in place and unable to move. He snapped his head down and stared at the warped wooden floors. Uneven breaths escaped his mouth and slithered through the silence.

     Steve waited and prayed for the slight swishing sound that would indicate that Bucky had disappeared as easily as he appeared. But that sound never came, instead a breathy moan broke the silence.

 _“Bucky, oh Bucky.”_ The demon mocked, imitating Steve’s passionate moans from just a couple nights ago. “ _Right there. God, yes. Bucky.”_

     Steve gasped in surprise and squeezed his eyes shut.

     “It’s okay, Rogers. No need to be embarrassed.” Bucky was simultaneously condescending and serious. He leaned in towards Steve’s downturned head and brought his lips to the side of his head. They grazed Steve’s ear lightly and Steve squeezed his eyes shut tighter and gripped his own jeans on either side of each thigh.

     Bucky’s whisper snuck softly into Steve’s ear, “ _Tell me, Stevie, what did you imagine I was doing to you?”_


	14. Eyes Front, Solider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for: the sex.

     “Oh come on, Steve, aren’t you going to share?” Bucky probed, still speaking against Steve’s face, now just inches away from his ear.

     “I can’t believe this is happening.” Steve mumbled under his breath before finally opening his eyes and turning his face slightly to meet Bucky’s eyes.

     Bucky pulled away slightly and slowly, staying close and keeping eye contact.

     “So….? What exactly was it that this beautiful body was doing that got you so hot and bothered?” Bucky seemed so pleased with himself.

     “Fucking me.” Steve said as quietly as he could, trying to avoid Bucky’s invading stare.

     “I’m sorry, what was that?”

     “Fucking me.” He repeated strongly, meeting Bucky’s gaze.

     “Well that is a little vague. _How_ was I fucking you?” Bucky’s face gleamed through the dark room. This was a game. He wanted to hear Steve say it. He wanted to hear the embarrassment and the shame in his voice. He wanted to tease him. And then maybe, just maybe, give him what he wants.

     “I was up against the wall. You….were touching me.” Steve’s voice caught on every word as he forced them out. He couldn’t bare to look at Bucky while he spoke.

     “Where?” Bucky grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked it towards him, bringing their faces so close they nearly touched. “Where?” he repeated.

     “Everywhere.” Steve let the words go amongst a shallow exhale.

     “You mean like this?” Bucky’s words filled the space between them as he shoved Steve against the wall roughly. Steve’s body absorbed the impact and then stood breathless and rigid against the cold wall. Bucky’s body stood flush against his and the demon started running his hands up Steve’s flank, to his chest, where his fingers groped and grasped as his muscles. Then his hands fell back down to the top of Steve’s jeans, running over the button and the zipper and down to his toned thighs. His fingers grazed the outside edges of Steve’s thighs down to the knee and then reversed the motion, running along the inside of the muscles. When his rough hands met Steve’s crotch, he cupped his growing erection. He palmed Steve’s cock, rubbing slowly against his jeans. Bucky swallowed Steve’s sharp exhales as they left his mouth and entered his.

     Steve, now fully turned on and unable to restrain himself, leaned forward in an attempt to kiss Bucky. But before their lips met, Bucky pulled his head back.

     “Uh-uh-uh. We haven’t gotten to that part yet. You haven’t told me what happens next.”

     “You pick me up, and I wrap my legs around your waist, and you shove me back against this wall.” Steve spoke in a slow and sensual tone he had never used before. He had lost himself completely in the moment and thrown away all concern and embarrassment.

     Bucky did just as Steve instructed. His hands gripped Steve’s ass and held him suspended between his own body and the wall. Steve’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck tightly.

     “And then you kiss me.”

     This time, when Steve leaned forward, Bucky met him halfway.

     Their lips crashed together messily. Bucky’s lips enveloped Steve’s as their tongues mingled. Steve found himself grinding into Bucky. He let go of Bucky’s neck just long enough to pull his black Henley over his head and toss it behind them onto the ground. With their lips pressed together, a muffled moan left Steve’s mouth and swam into Bucky’s.

     “ _Now fuck me.”_

     Bucky was slightly surprised by his lovers command. But that hardly stopped him from obeying. Despite the fact that it was, historically, him who gave the orders.

     “As you wish.”

     Bucky turned and tightened his grasp on Steve’s ass in order to keep him held against him. He walked through the dark living room and into the bedroom where he dropped Steve onto the bed. Bucky leaned down through Steve’s spread legs and brought their lips together once more while his hands worked flawlessly to undo the buttons on Steve’s jeans. He stood again and in one quick, sharp movement, yanked Steve’s jeans and boxers down.

     Steve sat up and began the same process on Bucky’s black suit pants. Bucky shed his suit coat and let it fall to the ground. He pulled his loosened tie over his head and unbuttoned his shirt. Soon, Bucky stood unclothed from the waist up with Steve pulling down his pants.

     Now it was time for Bucky to start giving the orders.

     “Turn over and get on your knees.” This was most definitely not posed as a question. Steve said nothing, but rolled over and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He turned his head back waiting to see what Bucky would do.

     “Eyes front, solider.”

     Steve smiled. “Yes, sir.”

     Bucky climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind Steve, knees apart. He glided his fingertips up the small of Steve’s back all the way to his shoulder blades. Finally, leaning over him, his fingers pushed their way into Steve’s mouth. Steve took this as an invitation. He sucked on the two fingers and slid his tongue between them.

     Bucky pulled his fingers out abruptly and with no warning, shoved the slick fingers in Steve’s asshole. The breath left Steve’s lungs and he felt like he would never get it back. He bit his bottom lip and grasped handfuls of bed sheet.

     “Bucky…please….please. Just fuck me already.” The words came out weak, nearly pained.

     The familiar sound of begging only made Bucky harder.

     He pulled his fingers out and placed his hand on Steve’s bare hip. The other hand ushered his cock into the other man. Now, both his hands gripped Steve, one on his shoulder and one on his hip, and pulled him back onto his dick.

     “Fuck!” Steve yelled. He threw his head back and shut his eyes taking in the feeling.

     Bucky’s hands slide up Steve’s torso and once they were flat on his chest, he pulled Steve’s body up to where Bucky’s chest was flush against his back. Once they were both kneeling upright, Bucky began rolling his hips in and out of Steve.

     Bucky relocated one of his hands to the front of Steve’s neck where it wrapped around and pulled him tightly against him.

     Steve’s breathing hitched as he felt Bucky’s hand grip his throat and hold him in place. Steve reached back and grabbed at Bucky letting his fingernails dig into him.

     Steve forced words out. “Harder.”

     “Harder, what?” Bucky asked as he continued fucking him.

     “Harder, sir.”

     Bucky smiled and leaned into Steve’s ear. “Good boy.”

     Bucky reached down and grabbed Steve’s dick, pumping up and down, matching the pace to his own hip thrusts.

     Steve moaned loudly as he rested his head back onto Bucky’s shoulder and arched his back. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

     “I want you to cum inside me.” He instructed Bucky.

     “Wouldn’t dream of doing it anywhere else, sweetheart.”

     Steve felt himself begin to lose control and he squeezed his eyes shut as his orgasm built up.

     “Don’t you dare cum before me.” Bucky warned seriously. For a split second, Steve wondered just what would happen if he ever disobeyed Bucky.

     Bucky reached the breaking point and as his orgasm ripped through him, his eyes flashed deep red.

     And just as he felt Bucky cum inside him, Steve released his own orgasm and splattered the white bed sheets with his cum. His muscles relaxed and he fell back into Bucky, who caught him by wrapping him in his arms.

     Bucky, who was also short of breath, spoke first. “Hope I didn’t disappoint.”

     Steve pulled forward, out of Bucky’s grasp and off of his cock, and turned so they faced each other. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Bucky’s softly.

     “You didn’t.”


	15. Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took for literal ever. Thanks for sticking around. I got a new idea for where the story is going to go after seeing CA:CW and I am going to play that out for the rest of the fic. I hope y'all like it.

     “Well, now that the fun part is over, I really must be off. All sorts of important, demon-related things to attend to.” Charm and condescension intermingled in Bucky’s tone.

     He stood from the bed, swiped his clothes from the floor hastily and started reassembling himself.

     Steve, still half dazed and laying naked on the bed, sat up quickly.

     “Really? You’re just going to leave? So, you show up, don’t answer any of my questions, get me to fuck you, and then disappear?”

     “Oh darling, I think you’re the one who got me to fuck you.”

     Steve was visibly frustrated when just a moment ago he had been filled with such visceral joy. He stood and pulled on a pair of boxers, then a neatly folded white tee from the dresser.

     Bucky was already half way out the door. He had finished dressing, slid on his shoes, and swiped a plum from the kitchen counter before twisting the doorknob to leave. All of this, despite the fact that both of them knew he could just disappear from the room in his mysterious demon way.

     “Look, if you don’t start talking to me and telling me what the hell is going on, I won’t be able to help you.” Steve called after him.

      Bucky stopped for a moment in silence before turning back to the other man.

     “What was that?”

     Steve looked down at the floor. He had had no intention of telling Bucky about SHIELD’s interest in demons, but it had been on his mind. He began, in the time since his little discussion with Coulson, considering all the outcomes for his current situation and none of them seemed very good. He figures in at least 8 of the possible 10 outcomes, Bucky dies. And out of those, in 6 of them Steve is the one doing the killing.

     “SHIELD knows. They know about me,” a pause hung between them, “and you.”

     Steve expected shock, anger, maybe sadness. Some part of him thought maybe this was when he became expendable to Bucky.

     Bucky sighed deeply, let go of his grip on the door and took a casual bite out of the plum in his hand.

     “God, I love plums.” The casual tone of his voice perplexed a nervous Steve.

     Bucky brought his gaze up to meet his.

     “Don’t you just love plums?” he extended the ripe and half eaten fruit towards Steve almost as an invitation to take a bite.

     “What? Do you just honestly not care about what I just said?”

     “Well, I mean it was bound to happen sooner or later. Here I am prancing about making deals with beautiful young blonde men, saving them from emanate danger, and then fucking them senseless. I am hardly keeping a low profile. “ He took the final bite of the plum and tossed into the trash can a few feet away.

     “And what exactly do you plan on doing about it?” Steve inquired.

     Bucky began to approach Steve, who fought the urge to wander towards him.

     “We give them what they want. I mean, not all that they want of course. Just a little. A bit at a time. I keep saving your precious ass from all that SHIELD nonsense and I give you little bits of info to report back to your fearless leader. Enough to keep them interested, but not enough to make me disposable.”

     Steve hardly looked convinced. “And what happens when they have got all the information they need?”

     “We will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

     “And what do I tell them for now?”

     “That I’m great in bed? That you love that thing I do with my tongue?” Bucky’s cheeky smile returned.

      Steve did not reciprocate said smile.

      “Well that thing with your tongue is never going to happen again.”

      “Of course not.” And with that, Steve stood alone.


	16. Making A New Acquaintance

     The weeks passed in a blur as mission after mission went by completed successfully. He saw Bucky very little in the weeks after their oh-so-interesting interaction. He had been very careful to take care of himself and eliminate the need for Bucky to swoop in and save him. However, despite the absences of his physical presence, Steve found himself keenly aware of a set of eyes on him at all times, an omnipresent ear there to listen.

     And every now and then Steve would find a handwritten note on his kitchen counter. They included intel for SHIELD. Just something small to keep their thirst quenched.

     He always signed them: “-Buck”.

 

     “Coulson wants us in his office ASAP,” Natasha read the message from her phone and relayed it to Steve as they walked into the building.

     They had just completed yet another boring undercover op that consisted mostly of them sitting around at café tables wearing baseball caps.

     “Did he say why?”

     “Does he ever?”

     A man in a plain black suit with an ear piece opened the double doors of Coulson’s office for the two of them. This was hardly common practice. The doors were usually unattended no matter if Coulson was behind them or not. But this time, the stern faced man held one hand behind his back as the other swung the door open. Natasha shot a quick, quizzical glance at Steve.

     “You wanted to see us, Sir?” Natasha’s professional voice cut through silence towards a large black leather chair, which sat behind Coulson’s desk. The desk was turned, facing the wall, leaving the individual sitting in it blocked from view.

     The chair swung around and a familiar voice rang through the air.

     “I did.”

     “Oh, I wasn’t aware we would be speaking with you, Mr. Stark.” Natasha responded calmly as Iron Man’s face was revealed to them.

     "Coulson's out to lunch. I thought I would keep his seat warm." 

     Steve’s eyes widened as they met with the face of a man he had so longed to meet. He had spent so long hoping for the chance to see him fly by that café table and wondering what it was like to be a man with such…power.

     “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.” Steve spoke with new found, SHIELD confidence.

     Tony stood from the chair and walked towards the two agents standing before him, both of them at attention with their hands behind their back. Tony’s three-piece suit clung to his muscular body as he sauntered towards them. His glance fell onto Natasha as he greeted her with a hug.

     “No need to call me Mr. Stark, Nat. You know me far too well for that.” His cheekiness rivaled Bucky’s and his voice seemed to insinuate a complicated past between the two. He looked her up and down with his eyebrows raised. “I truly do envy Pepper. Not many get to see what Black Widow can do with that body when she’s not in the field. I might have to ask you for pointers when our anniversary rolls around.” He chuckled.

     Natasha, with a stern, almost unamused tone, responded, “I doubt you can do what I can do.”

     Tony then refocused his gaze to Steve, who stood a little awestruck and a lot confused beside Natasha.

     “Hello, handsome. You must be Steven.” Tony shook Steve’s outstretched hand firmly. He smiled sensually as he ran his free hand down Steve’s arm. “God, where _did_ they find you?”

     “Brooklyn, Sir.” Steve responded with innocence. 

     Tony chuckled.

     “So, did we come here just so you could ogle Steve or do you actually have something to tell us?” Natasha interjected.

     “While I would love more time to look at him, I did call you in for a reason. Coulson’s trying this wonderful new thing – its call compartmentalization. It’s an old trick he picked up from Fury. Anyway, I am now officially in charge of this whole _demon_ situation.”

     The moment the word left Tony’s mouth, Steve felt his heart begin to race. It had been months since anyone had really discussed the issue. He had given them the bits of information that Bucky left him and hoped that would be enough. But a part of him knew that it wouldn’t satisfy them forever.

     “And what exactly does that mean?” Steve’s words left his mouth in a nervous rush.

     “It means that we will be tracking demons, exploiting them for information, and then probably killing them.” He responded with a disturbing casualness. "And I have a feeling you, Mr. Rogers, can help with that." 


	17. Leaving A Mark

     Steve found himself, a few days later, in an abandoned warehouse somewhere in Queens.

 _Go figure this is where the demons hang out,_ thought the Brooklyn boy.

     Tony Stark’s words rattled around in Steve’s head as he wandered around the building, kicking up dust with his black boots.

_Your demon friend is of use to us now, but I trust you know that he won’t be forever. And know that if I ever see him, we are going to have to start getting information elsewhere. I am not letting a single one of these bastards slip through my fingers._

     The conversation that led Natasha, Steve and Tony to this ever so charming location went something like this:

     Steve: Bucky, poof your ass in here. We have a problem.

     Bucky: Don’t we always, darling?

     Steve: I’m serious.

     Bucky: So am I when I say you should really wear those jeans more often.

     Steve: Christ, you sound like Stark. Could we please focus here?

     Bucky: Speaking of Tony, I really thought he would have made a deal with one of us by now.

     Steve: Right now he is a little too focused on hunting you. So you wanna give me something here, Buck?

     Bucky: So glad you have taken to my nickname.

     Steve: God damn it, Bucky, please!

     Bucky: Fine.

 

     Bucky then provided Steve with the address they were at now. He told him that it was a hang out for demons. The demons posted up there waiting for junkies, alcoholics, and homeless people to stroll by. They were the kind of people willing to sell their soul for just about anything.

     “Do we know exactly what we are looking for?” Natasha asked no one in particular.

     Her straight red hair swayed around her shoulders as she walked through the warehouse. One of her delicate, yet powerful hands rested gently on the gun strapped over tight black leather on her thigh.

     Tony, one the other hand, had much less lowkey attire. His heavy feet fell on the concrete encased in the metal of the Iron Man suit. He had opted for the black and gray finished suit. He claimed it was more conservative. And his guns weren’t just strapped on, they were built in.

     Secretly, Steve longed for a signature look. All the Avengers had them. And now here he was, with two of them, completing highly successful SHIELD missions. He wasn’t saying he had to be part of The Avengers (although he had thought on names, _Super Solider_ was his favorite), he just wanted something more than a tight black shirt and two gun holsters.

     Steve finally answered Natasha’s question.

     “Demons. We are looking for demons. He said this is where some of them hang out.”

     “And just so we are clear on the plan, we round them up, we find the most useful one and keep him for information, and the rest die.” Tony spoke firmly and quickly as he continued scouting out dark, empty parts of the warehouse.

     “And are any of us actually sure how to kill a demon?” Nat responded.

     “That would have been a good thing to ask your demon friend, kid.” Tony said turning his head towards Steve.

     “He is hardly itching to give out information, To-“

     Steve felt the air leave his lungs in a rush of sharp pain. He felt his throat constricting rapidly and brought his hands up, scratching at his neck. He felt himself be pulled upwards, only his toes scraping the concrete ground.

     Instantly, Natasha pulled out both of her guns and held them up directly in front of her, her eyes wide and searching for a perpetrator that didn’t seem to exist.

     Tony stood similarly across the room with his open palm out in front of him.

     A slow, sensual female voice bent around the corner of a dark doorway and slowly a pale, slender face was exposed.

     “привет любимцев,"

     Steve and Tony recognized the Russian, though they did not know what it meant. They both looked towards Natasha, who stood still with her guns still held out in front of her.

     “Don’t play with me. What do you want?” Natasha asked forcefully.

     “I don’t want anything,” the woman’s English came out drenched in a thick Russian accent, “it appears you three are the ones who want something.”

     She walked farther into the room, holding a long steel knife in her hands. She looked at it as she slid her fingers up and down the blade and approached Steve.

     “You come in here with the intention of killing demons, and you don’t even know how it’s done?” She laughed as these words left her mouth.

     By now she had reached Steve who stood, still on his tippy toes, struggling to breathe.

     “This is pretty cool, huh?” She gestured towards Steve’s strained throat.

     “It is wonderful what a demon can do, and without even breaking a nail. I’m Svetlana, by the way.”

     The woman snapped her fingers and three more girls dressed in all black and with eyes the color of their lipstick, emerged from the darkness behind them. Two of the girls brought up their hands and with a slight flick of the wrist, sent Natasha and Tony across the room and into the concrete wall.

     Svetlana brought her hands up to the neckline of Steve’s shirt, gripped it, and tore down the middle, exposing Steve’s chest.

     “You really are gorgeous, aren’t you?” She asked him.

     Tony, from where he lay slumped against the wall and in considerable pain, spoke up, “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”

     The woman touched her hands to Steve’s chest and let her sharp black nails dig into his skin. Her eyes flicked that distinctive demon red and a soft orange glow was emitted from her palms. At first, Steve felt nothing, but then he began to feel a deep burning sensation as if his blood were boiling inside of him.

     Then suddenly, the feeling ceased and the glow faded away. The demon’s eyes faded back to brown and one of her eyebrows raised quizzically on her face.

     “Huh. It seems that you already belong to someone,” she said slowly, bringing her hands back down to her sides. “And he has taken the liberty of signing his name across your soul.”


	18. You Should Feel Special

     Steve, finally feeling the grip on his neck loosen, looked downwards towards his chest.

     It still glowed slightly and he could feel the heat pulsate through him. But all he saw was skin. There was no mark, nothing. Whatever Bucky left, it was inside of him, part of him. Something only he could see.

     “And it’s not just anyone who has claimed you.” Svetlana patted Steve’s cheek softly. “You should feel special.”

     Natasha and Tony had regained their footing and stood across the room. However, they were governed by the three demons who had threatened to put them through the wall the first time and they looked as though they had no intention of holding back a second time.

     “So what now?” Tony asked with his signature annoyed condescension.

     “Now, we test the waters.” She responded.

     Steve searched the demons eyes for meaning , but found himself clueless as to what would happen next.

     “You see, your buddy… your pal… your Bucky, he placed a protection spell on you. You are either one hell of a soul or he’s got a soft spot for blondes. Either way, his protection spell can only go so far. You can only heal from so much.”

     In one swift motion, she pulled a small blade from her jacket and swiped it across Steve’s chest.

     Instinctively, Nat stepped forward but was stopped by the raised hand of one of the demons in front of her.

     The long, shallow cut on Steve’s chest began to bleed. Small beads of blood rose to the surface and began running down his chest. But before it could get too far, Steve saw the cut slowly heal itself. The blood remained, but the wound did not.

     “Not bad. Let’s see how long it takes to heal this.”

     Her hand lunged forward and sent the entire length of the blade through Steve’s shoulder. He gritted his teeth and moaned in pain, but within a second he had pulled the knife out and gripped it in his hand.

     He swung the knife at Svetlana’s torso and then brought his second hand up for a punch. His fist connected with her cheekbone and her head swung to the left. She responded swiftly with a kick to the groin and two jabs at his stomach.

     Meanwhile, Natasha and Tony attempted to stave off the three demons that guarded them.

     Natasha managed to clap one of the girls in the ear, sending her to the ground before she could strangle one of them with her mind. Tony fired repulsor blasts while Natasha swung around and caught one of the girls between her thighs.

     “This brings back good memories of Pepper.” She shouted, side-eyeing Tony.

     “Oh would you let it go!” He jabbed back as he threw one of the demons against the wall.

     “I’m done playing around.” Svetlana said to Steve as she raised her hand and sent him backwards through two concrete walls.

     He landed hard, head bouncing against concrete. His eyes squeezed shut before he opened them again to find a blurry world. But Svetlana’s slender shape was clear enough in front of him. He looked behind her in a panic, searching for Tony and Natasha. Neither of them were visible. He heard their grunts and the sounds of metal against concrete, but they were hidden from view.

     Steve felt that familiar, invisible grip on his throat and he struggled to take in the dusty air.

     “I’ll have to send James a condolence card.” She laughed slightly, tightening her telepathic grip on Steve.

     “My name is Bucky. And that won’t be necessary.”

     Svetlana’s neck was snapped violently to the right and her body went limp, falling to her knees and then down to the concrete. The grip on Steve was released instantly and he opened his eyes to see Bucky’s strong, tall figure standing in front of him. Though this had happened before, Steve found it no less shocking a second time.    


	19. Saved By The Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I added a little bit to this chapter since the first upload!

     Steve pushed himself up to a sitting position amidst the rubble of the walls he had been slammed through. Bucky casually dusted off the shoulders of his black suit coat and then extended a hand towards Steve, a gesture of help.

     Steve ignored Bucky's outstretched hand completely and pushed himself up.

     "What the hell are you doing?" Steve asked with quiet anger.

     He craned his head around Bucky to make sure that Natasha and Tony were till occupied and out of view. 

     “We are here to hunt demons, Bucky! To hunt you! Tony will kill you if he sees you!”

     Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

     “What?!?” Steve’s frustration poured into his rushed words.

     “For saving your life. Again.”

     Steve let out a tense breath he had been keeping inside and looked downwards in frustration.

     “God, if I didn’t know any better I would think you cared.” Bucky scoffed.

     “And what if I do?”

     Steve rushed these words out in anger and brought his hands up before letting them fall down to his sides. His gaze fell to the concrete floor and he sighed. Suddenly, all anger and frustration melted away from Steve’s words and they came out soft and gently.

     “I do. So, please go. Before Tony hurts you.”

     In the seconds before Bucky disappeared from in front of him, Steve thought for a moment that he saw Bucky’s usual presumptive, arrogant smile melt into a realization of some sort. His eyes seemed to soften and fall downwards as if he had just heard something he wanted to hear but had never expected to. And then he was gone.

     Steve emerged from around the corner to find Tony and Natasha standing amidst three lifeless bodies.

     “I see you guys figured out how to kill demons.” Steve said.

     “It was a bit of trial and error, but it seems neck snapping does the trick.” Natasha responded.

     “At least for now.” Tony let out a slight chuckle.

     “I assume you took care of princess back there?”

     Steve turned and glanced back. “Yeah, she won’t be bothering us anymore.”

     “But did you get anything from her? That is why we are here.” Tony inquired.

     “Oh, no. There wasn’t much time for small talk.”

     “Great. Well, wasn’t this just a wonderful waste of a day.” Tony turned and started walking to the door visibly upset.

     “Don’t be a jackass, Tony. We were all getting our asses kicked.” Natasha chimed in.

     They drove back to headquarters in tense silence. Steve was well aware of what Tony wanted to say and just how far he was willing to go with all of this. He knew this was the end of nothing. Tony wanted to know who the ringleader was, when all this started, how to end it, everything. Steve knew that Stark was right to want to stop all this. He knew he should want to stop it. He knew that the sight of Bucky should make his stomach turn. He was an agent, a solider. He was given orders. And they weren’t illogical. There are demons out there bartering with peoples souls and letting people die.

     But he couldn’t bring himself to look at Bucky and see something that needed to be exterminated. He had a primal urge to protect him. Even if he was usually the one needing the protection.  

* * *

     Steve stood at the foot of his bed, with the lights off, in silent thought.

     "Bucky?"

     The name stretched out into the vast darkness of Steve's apartment like a question.

     And it seemed as though the answer came before the word even left Steve's mouth.

     "Yes?"

     Bucky was, very suddenly, standing directly in front of Steve, not even a foot away. Their breath mingled between them.

     Bucky lacked his casual attitude. It seemed as though he had been waiting for his name to be called all night. And here he was, answering intently, with all of his usual guards suspiciously down.

     Steve didn't speak. Instead he let his eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness, find Bucky's. 

     "Steve?" Bucky offered softly.

     "I...wanted to thank you. For what you did today."

     A pause filled the space between them.

     "You knew the risk. You knew Stark would kill you. But...you came anyway. To protect me. So..." his eyes refocused on Bucky's, "thank you."

     "You're welcome"

     The words were slow to leave Bucky's lips and floated through the air softly. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a way that Steve Rogers had never before witnessed. They met again, for the first time, just then. 


	20. Closer Still

     Bucky’s strong façade was notably cracked as he stood in Steve’s bedroom with the city lights pouring through the blinds and dimly lighting Steve’s tired face.

     Steve watched as Bucky searched for something more to say.

     “I just…knew that you were there. And I, uh, you know, had to make sure you didn’t get hurt. It was…”

     Bucky’s words were silenced by Steve’s soft lips which crashed against his suddenly.

     Bucky stood still, slightly shocked by Steve’s actions, as their lips fell into each other.

     After a few moments, Steve pulled away ever so slightly and looked into Bucky’s shocked eyes.

     “Shut up and kiss me.” Steve whispered.

     And Bucky complied.

     Steve realized, as he pushed Bucky against the wall and ran his hands up his chest, that this had been his intent the whole time. He didn’t know it, but when he called Bucky’s name that night, he was silently and subconsciously hoping for this to happen.

     They had been together before. And it had been good. But it was rushed and dominating. It was a product of lust and confusion. But this? This was something altogether different. This was Steve wanting nothing more than to take in Bucky’s body, his breath, his words. He wanted to kiss the skin covering his collarbones and run his fingers slowly through his hair. He wanted to trace patterns down Bucky’s spine and let their bodies intertwine softly. He wanted to love him. And to be loved by him.

     Steve pulled their lips apart and let his hand fall from Bucky’s chest, down his arm, and gripped his hand. With a subtle, but loving smile, Steve pulled Bucky to the bed.

     Steve sat on the end of the bed and pulled of his shirt. By the time he looked up from unbuttoning his jeans, Bucky stood in front of him completely naked.

     “That was fast.” Steve chuckled.

     “You can’t blame me for being excited.” Bucky responded, leaning down to kiss Steve softly.

     Steve kicked off his jeans and Bucky crawled onto the bed gently pushing Steve backwards.

     With either one of his knees on either side of Steve, Bucky crawled up until he was directly above him and looking down with a smile.

     One of his hands lifted from where it rested on the bed and made its way down to Steve’s cock. He began with slow strokes, not breaking eye contact with the man below him. Eventually Steve began breathing hard and let his eyes close and his head push back against the bed.

     Bucky took this opportunity to lean down and lay gentle kisses down Steve’s exposed neck.

     “ _I need you_.” Steve breathed out quietly.

     Bucky took his hand away from Steve’s cock and brought it up to Steve’s jaw. He pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

     “Then you’ll have me.”

     Bucky picked up one of his knees and placed it between Steve’s legs. Then the other. He placed both of his hands on Steve’s thighs and pulled him forward.

     Bucky then placed two of his own fingers in his mouth and began to suck on them. Steve watched, involuntarily biting his lower lip and holding his breath. And finally, Bucky pushed his two fingers inside of Steve, stretching his hole.

     Steve gasped and gripped the bed sheets in his hands while Bucky worked his fingers in and out of him slowly.

     “I’m ready.” Steve moaned.

     Bucky’s fingers slid out of him and Steve immediately missed the feeling. But it wasn’t long before Bucky was ushering his cock into that same hole. Steve’s legs were pulled up and held tightly against Bucky’s sides. He felt Bucky’s warm hands, one on his thigh and the other farther up on his hip.

     The first few thrusts were slow and gentle, easing Steve into the sensation. And then, as Steve moaned his name, Bucky began to speed up. He rolled his hips languidly and squeezed his eyes shut, remembering what it felt like to be inside of Steve.

     Steve let go of the sheets and brought one arm up to grip Bucky at the neck and pull him down. They met somewhere in the middle and managed a few sloppy kisses as they both lost themselves in the feeling.

     Bucky eventually found himself nestled in the crook of Steve’s neck while Steve’s hands gripped at his back in an attempt to pull him even deeper inside of him.

     Bucky spoke for the first time in a while when he let a soft “ _steve_ ” escape his lips.

     Steve knew that Bucky was getting close so he brought his hand to his cock and began pumping up and down to match Bucky’s steady rhythm.

     “ _Bucky…come for me…_ ” Steve moaned breathlessly.

     And with that, Steve felt Bucky’s grip on him tighten and Bucky moaned loudly as he let go and felt his orgasm spill into Steve. Shortly there after, Steve felt himself loose control and came in the small space between their bodies.

     Bucky thrusted a few more slow times as they caught their breath. Their lips met a final time as Bucky lifted himself up and shifted so that he laid next to Steve rather than on top of him.

     Steve, who was hardly bothered to worry about the mess on his stomach, rolled onto his side against Bucky whose chest was still heaving shallowly. A few silent moments passed as Steve smiled against Bucky’s side, with his arm strewn across Bucky’s chest.

     Bucky laid with his eyes open, but sleepy, and stared at the white ceiling of Steve’s bedroom.

     Finally, he spoke. “I’ve never done that before.”

     Steve laughed and lifted his head slightly to look up at Bucky who was still locked in on the cracks in the ceiling.

     “You have definitely fucked before, James Buchanan Barnes.”

     Bucky let out a soft chuckle and said, “No, not fucked.”

     “What then?” Steve asked.

     Bucky took in a breath and looked down at Steve.

     “Fallen in love.”

 


End file.
